Broken
by A Warped View Of Reality
Summary: four short chapters, each one from a different POV. AlbusxScorpius, James II xOC
1. Broken

**Chapter Title**: Broken  
**Rating**: T  
**Characters**: Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, Draco + Lucius Malfoy  
**Pairings**: Albus/Scorpius  
**Chapter Summary**: Did he notice - the looks, the barely-there moments; touches as light as gossamer, as a butterfly's wing.  
**Warnings:** slash, angst, sucidal themes later on  
**A/N:** i wrote this as a different sort of style for me, feedback would be greatly appreciated :)  
**Disclaimer:** J.K. Rowling and various big companies own the Harry Potter world and all the characters.

**Broken**

1.

Ice-Cold

I wasn't sure if it was real, this feeling. If he would just break away, leave, close up and return to his hard shell. Impenetrable. Unbreakable.

"_Just, just leave me alone!"_

The cold mask would settle over his face again, eyes – something precious, like diamonds; sharp – freeze over. Like icy winds blowing over my own features, imprisoning them, capturing in an ice-cold cell.

"_I, I'm sorry...I can't."_

Moments of humanity, understanding – even affection would sometimes show. Sometimes crack the mask. Offering a glimpse of the person inside, hiding.

"_No! Not again!" Writhing in his sleep, I had tried to offer comfort, smooth back his hair from his feverish forehead, move away the covers he seemed to be wrenching at. He had woken up, eyes, beautiful eyes, wild and staring. They had focused on me, and hatred had formed, as clear and sharp as a lash of a whip on my back. I had drawn away, huddled back down in my own bed. Frightened. Not of him, but of me. And the way his anger had made me feel._

I would try, try again and again to draw him out. I succeeded, sometimes, but then it was as if he realised, and enclosed himself again behind high walls.

_A game of Quidditch; muddy from a fall, messy from the harsh wind, sweaty from the flying. My team had won, ecstatic – overjoyed, reeling with victory. Drunk from the rush, and the alcohol someone had put in my hand, I had found him. Alone, in our dormitory. In a corner, knees drawn up to his chest. Head in his hands. I had sat, collapsed – what's the difference? – next to him, on the floor._

"_Hey..." A drunken slur._

"_You're drunk." He had stated, looking at me with blank eyes._

"_It's a party." I replied, as if that explained everything – even the sensation in my stomach, right at the bottom, when he gave me his small, twisted half-smile._

_So I had leant forward, crashing my mouth against his in a painful collision of thoughts, feelings, senses. For one minute – one, glorious, wonderful minute – he responded. His mouth opened in a gasp against mine, hands fisting themselves in my hair, tugging, crushing my face to his. Then his teeth were on my jaw, my throat, my collarbone, desperate fingers brushed down to my shirt, grabbing and pulling until it was just a heap on the floor – unimportant._

_I melted into him, trying to give some sense that I was just as in control as he was – but we both knew, know, that he always has, and always will, be the master. My own hands reached eagerly for him, but he was already retreating back, away from me and the promise I held._

It's always the way. He opens up, lets me in, like we both, so desperately crave, then shakes his head and him, the wild, passionate side of him, collapses, loses will to carry on.

"_Guess what?"_

"_What."_

"_You could at least __**try **__and act a __**little**__ excited." I pouted, folding my arms in mock annoyance. Always fake though – any anger seems to automatically dissipate around him._

_He doesn't reply._

_Our friendship is strange. He never puts any effort into it – it's all me. Still, it was barely accepted my family – his were worse. His mother and father seemed not to mind, tolerated it, but it was his grandfather who had the final say in everything, in his own mind even. I sighed in resignation, "I'm captain of the team! Isn't it great?"_

_He had turned to me, the soft breeze lifting strands of his hair – the mountains looming, grey, ominous, behind him. "That's great, really it is." A ghost of a smile. I couldn't help it. I hugged him tightly, pouring my happiness into his cold, unresponsive form. His arms moved up, wrapped around my until I couldn't draw back, even if I had wanted to. I felt his warm breath on my hair and his lips pressing against it._

_But, like before, he drew away, too soon, too quickly. He pushed me back, away from him, roughly._

2.

The Falling Snow

Christmas – my family was suffocating me, choking every breath out of my body. I slipped away and met him in a muggle park. We sat on a bench, inches between us. Not talking. But I didn't mind. It was comforting, in a way.

"_I got you a present."_

"_You did?" I shouldn't have sounded so surprised, but I couldn't help it. He isn't a gift-giving sort of person._

"_Yes. We're friends, aren't we?"_

_Were we? I didn't know anymore._

_A small, neatly wrapped thing, soft. I tore it open eagerly, more excited about his than any of the presents parents, siblings and grandparents had given to me that morning. A shirt. A Quidditch shirt from my favourite team._

_Instantly I threw my arms around him._

_Then, a first, he kissed me._

_It was __**different**__ to his others. Soft, gentle, caring._

_Loving._

_He disaparated a second later, not giving me time to give him my gift. A notebook with an enchanted lock. It seemed silly all of a sudden._

It was term again, and he was colder than ever. Barely spared me a glance, let alone a hug. Things I treasured more than I probably should.

"_Was your grandfather any better?"_

"_No."_

"_Oh."_

_Those were the only words we spoke for the entire train journey. I could have other friends – I could have hordes of people just __**desperate**__ to be __**my**__ friend. But I didn't. Instead I chose him. Didn't he see this? Didn't he know I could leave whenever I wanted?_

_Yes._

_I think he did._

_But he also knew I never would._

Exams came and went – we barely had a conversation – barely had any time for each other anymore. But it wasn't me – he was re-doubling his efforts to push me away.

I wouldn't go.

"_Hello," A girl, pretty, with brown hair, curled, and a large, pink mouth, said to me, twirling a lock of hair around a long fingernail._

"_Hi." I was distracted – he was walking down the corridor towards us._

"_So I was wondering, if you, erm, maybe, you know, want to, like, come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?" She flushed, heat creeping up her neck. She chewed on one of the full bottom lip nervously. My gaze had barely left him as he walked, that lithe, feline stride of his._

_I looked down at her. "Er, sorry, no. I've got work to do."_

"_Oh, ok. Maybe some other time." She walked away, face downcast. She's upset. I knew how that felt. Suddenly his gaze was on me. Angry. He wanted me to go out with the girl. To forget about him; leave him alone in his miserable life. I would never, __**could**__ never do that. And he knows it._

If I did leave, get a life of my own, he would die. Shrivel up inside. Maybe even hate his life so much, he'd end it himself. That thought alone is enough for me to refuse dozens of admirers – **nothing** could make me leave his side.

"_**Please**__ – he'll hurt you if you stay – go __**now**__!" He was standing on his doorstep – Christmas again – a mottled, purplish bruise swelling, forcing one of his beautiful eyes half-closed._

_I could feel anger boiling up inside me, bubbling; begging, pleading to be let free._

"_Is he here?" I gritted out._

"_Yes, but-" His pale hair shone as he moved forwards, pushing me back, the dull light from the street, filtering through the snow and glimmering in his eyes._

"_Move. I'll kill __**him**__."_

"_**No**__! Albus – don't – I couldn't bear it if he hurt you too."_

_I looked at him, cheeks white and face taut with worry. "Yo...you do care," I said in a wondering tone, staring at him._

_He laughed a bit, weak and rough, "Of course I do, you idiot."_

_I kissed him._

"_**Boy**__!"_

_He jerked back, shoving me away from him forcefully, "Go," He whispered, before he shut the door. Leaving me standing in the cold snow._

3.

Cold Skin

Blood, dark and wet and slippery on my hand as I reached out to steady him. He looked at me, pain in his eyes, and I knew it wasn't just from his injuries – it was the thought that I would see him like this; so weak.

"_I, I'm fine." He made a feeble attempt to push me away. He'd gone home, for the weekend; his grandfather – the man I hated most in the entire world – claiming he needed him. He had returned like this._

"_No, you're not." I slid my arm under his, taking his weight, but he refused, insisted on walking for himself. "For Merlin's sake! Let me help you, for once!"_

_He collapsed into me, unconscious. Horror flooded me. I'd __**never**__ been the one in charge; it'd always been him taking the initiative, controlling everything. I hate it, seeing him like this. It wasn't natural._

I sit outside the infirmary, head in my hands. No one's in there with him. His parents are coming as quickly as they can. True. His grandfather is desperately worried; can't **bear** the thought of his precious grandson in pain. False.

"_Matron, we're here – our son...?" Mrs Malfoy leaves the question hanging, as if she can't bear to consider the possible answers. Mr Malfoy grips her elbow tightly. The senior Mr Malfoy is behind them, one leather-encased hand draped over the sliver-topped cane with elegant disinterest._

_I look up. Glare furiously._

_How I want that man dead._

Mrs Malfoy hurries inside, but Mr Malfoy pauses by the door and glances down at me.

"Albus, isn't it? Potter's son?" I nod silently. "You're my son's friend." It isn't a question. "Thank you." Then he follows his wife.

Long silver hair tied back, away from the cruel planes of his face, Mr Lucius Malfoy leans over me as he passes, "Yes, **thank you**."

_Barely half an hour later Lucius Malfoy re-emerges as whirls down the hall with one sneering glance at me. Two hours after that they both come out._

"_He's alright." They leave._

_I slip in, hurry, to his bedside. He's so pale. Deathly._

"_Albus." He's awake. His hand on my cheek fleetingly, but the cold touch lingers. "You're here."_

_He smiles, but then winces from the swelling. I squeeze his fingers._

"I'm here."

4.

Epilogue

Strange, how something so simple, so small, can be so beautiful. The white petal lands in his hair and he brushes it out irritably. I pick it up, smooth out the dent caused by his rough touch.

"What's the point?" He asks, nodding at the petal.

"I don't know."

He watches me for a bit, then takes it from me, holds it up and lets the wind carry it away. We watch it go.

Our families don't like it, not that we expected them to go into spasms of joy. Surprisingly, his parents are more accepting than mine. I don't think my brother will speak to me again. My sister might. Father probably. I can't tell with Mother.

"Albus?"

"Yes?"

"Don't you regret it? Any of it?"

"No, why should I?"

"I just thought you might." We lapse into silence. He rolls onto his back and watches the clouds. "Ireland is peaceful."

"And remote."

"And safe." I look down at him, to see his gaze on me. I lean down and kiss Scorpius Malfoy.

"Yes, safe."


	2. Colours

**Chapter Title:** Colours  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, OC

**Pairings:** Albus/Scorpius  
**Chapter Summary**: Eyes hiding such sadness, it makes me sadangrymiserable too. And then there's her. The drowing girl.  
**Warnings:** slash, angst, sucidal themes later on

**Colours**

1) It shouldn't have happened like this. Hell, it shouldn't have happened _at all_. Why did I let him do it? I knew it would kill him. But I let him do it anyway, because it's what he wanted and I wanted and what I want always happens. ALWAYS.

Like when I was five, and I wanted a pony, but my father had said it was too expensive, and my mother had said it was too expensive, and my grandfather had smiled through his glass, hidden in the corner. I got the pony within a week. My grandfather's smile had gone, and mine had replaced it. I think that's why I go to any lengths to get what I want. To spite him.

Only once did I not go after what I wanted. Once, not after the thing I wanted more than I had wanted more than anything else in the whole wide world. I hadn't believed it possible to want, _need_, something that much, yet I did.

And now. His hair as he arches up, thick, and matted with sweat and tears and blood. His eyes, filled to the brim with ME. His teeth as they grit together to stop himself from crying out. Redbittenlips. Pinkflushedcheeks. Shinyclenchedmuscles. Whitetwistedknuckles. Orangestrangledmoans. Hit the air with bruising force and my fingertips dig deeper in surprise and pleasure.

They're mine, those gasps and groans and whimpers that escape his mouth. MINE. Just like his heart, partly blackened and shrivelled, now, of course. Not even I can replace that.

2) "Albus...?" A small, scrunched up figure sitting on the curb. At my voice, he leaps up, pummelling the palms of his hands into his eyes roughly, rubbing.

"Yeah?" He tugs at his hair distractedly. I say nothing, watching him. "Was there something you wanted?"

"No, I mean, it doesn't matter." I turn away. Grey tarmac, spotted with white ground-in chewing gum. I walk away slowly, waiting – desperately – for him to call me back.

"Okay."

A deep, sort of _blue_ noise as my heart plummets beyond return.

3) And now, what do I do? Let go – GO! – of the thing that I love the most, the thing that I need the most, the thing that I couldn't bring myself to live without. He'll be happy with his family. I'll be dead inside. Quite possibly on the outside too, by that point.

Or be selfish, and clutch him to me and nevereverletgo.

I like the second option best. But, then again, it's not really about what I like now, is it?

His eyes speak of childhood and laughter and thousands of crystal towers and pinkness and running through long grass. Mine are empty voids. Dull and grey and impossible to read. Like frosted glass. But Albus shattered it, to be metaphoric, which I usually loath being with a passion equal to the hate Albus bears my grandfather.

Because Albus hates something that deserves to be hated. I am silly and stupid and inadequate and hate things like excessive use of metaphors.

But, all the same, Albus had smashed whatever had been shielding my emotions from the rest of the world. I'd always been acutely aware of what I was feeling. It had always pressed down on me uncomfortably; impossible to escape. But now... Everyone I meet can see just what I feel, splashed generously across my face in a rainbow palette. It hasn't made much difference to Albus, of course. He always knew what I felt, no matter what.

If anyone, it's him hiding his feelings from me. He used to be so open – you could read him like a book.

4) "Albus, how about we go out tonight, eh?"

He looks up at me blankly. "_You_ want to go out? You _hate_ going out." It's true, of course; I despise leaving the house normally, but this is an exception.

"You don't." I smile, taking his hand and lacing my fingers through his. His smile nearly splits his face in two.

"Okay." He says happily. "Just let me get my coat."

When he returns, I pull him against me, tight, and look into his beaming face, greengreen eyes looking so pleased and content and loving and GREEN. But underneath, very carefully disguised, was that edge of sadness. My grip tightens on his hand and I kiss him. My lips are still pressed to his, not letting him go any deeper, as I disparate. The second we arrive, I step back, letting go of him instantly. His gaze doesn't leave me, confusion pooling in those eyes.

"Bye." I whisper. He blinks and looks around sharply.

Comprehension dawns on his face, closely followed by horror. "No! Scorpius, _no_!"

A young female voice crying out, "_Al_! Mum, Al's back!" He's distracted for that one, vital second, and I'm gone, scrunching my eyes shut tight so I don't have to watch him.

5) I don't go back to the flat we shared, because I'm not that stupid. There's nothing there I want, anyway. I go instead the only friend I was able to retain from Hogwarts, the only one that didn't go when I pushed them all away in favour of Albus. We weren't _best_ friends, of course, that was Albus' place. But she understood me better than the others had.

But that doesn't stop the butterflies in my stomach as I ring the doorbell of the stylish townhouse, on Crescent Row in Bath, no less. When the door's flung open, and a mountain of golden blonde hair tumbles out, I'm surprised by the sudden wave of happiness that floods me at the sight of her. I hadn't realised how I'd missed her.

"Well, well, Scorpius Malfoy." She says, propping one elbow on her hip as she drags her hair out of her face with her other hand. "I don't mean to sound rude, though of course you know I actually do, but what are you doing here?"

"I didn't know where else to go..."

"And where's your little toyboy?" She asks, peering round me

"Um..." To my horror, I feel tears welling up. She notices at once, of course, and sighs.

"Oh, come in then. You need a drink, and I've a feeling I will too soon enough."

6) Her house is very white. Everything in that pure, glistening shade. Pristine. In the sitting room there's one scarlet sofa that she sits on, doing her nails in silver enamel.

"Albus misses you. _Desperately_. It really was terribly selfish of you to leave him, Scorpius."

"I did it for him." I grit out, glaring at her.

She shrugs. "Everyone's talking about it. Your parents are horribly worried about their baby boy out on his own in the big bad world."

"_Ailene_." I say forcibly, warning her not to push me.

Her knowing blue eyes – periwinkle today – laugh at me through black-coated lashes. "_Scorpius_." She mocks. "Say my name." She says suddenly. "My full name. My disgusting mudblood name." I stare at her. I've heard her call herself that before, of course, she was in Slytherin and to escape being bullied by others, she learned very early on to appear to hate herself for being muggleborn. "Say it."

"Ailene Merryweather."

Abruptly, her face splits into a huge grin, and she starts humming under her breath and goes back to her nails. "So, what are you going to do?"

I'm still watching her. I'd been so wrapped up in my own problems and self-pity, I hadn't taken a second to notice her state. She'd always been controlled, collected, and now... I'd seen something in her eyes which I had never witnessed in them before, and never thought I would; desperation.

7) Albus finds me a week later. He knocks on the door, and Ailene strides in, saying there's a visitor for me, then disappears back out the door. Albus steps in a moment later.

"Oh, Scorpius..." He says softly.

That's all it takes to have me up and against him, neon yellow starts exploding beneath my eyelids. We lie on the scarlet sofa, curled together in knots impossible to untie. I stroke his hair. He runs his fingertips up and down and up and down my side.

"She's changed since school."

"Who, Ailene?"

He nods over my heart. "Less together. She hardly seems to know what she's doing."

I'm silent as beige. Beige is silent. And inconspicuous. Dove grey is quieter still, though. I shut out thoughts of Ailene. Turn to the boy pressed closer than air. Shut out thoughts of the drowned. Turn to HIM.


	3. Never Ever

**Chapter Title:** Never Ever  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, OC  
**Pairings:** Albus/Scorpius, mentions of James(II)/OC, Teddy/OC and Teddy/Victorie  
**Chapter Summary:** Never again, he said. And we didn't fight again. Ever.  
**Chapter Warnings:** attempted suicide

**Never Ever**

Selflessness

I sit perched like a tiny bird – so easy to crush, though not like me, not really – on the fourth step up. I can't quite hear Scorpius and Albus on my sofa, just murmurs. But they're happy murmurs and that's all that matters, really. Happy murmurs. About each other, and their love for each other, and their love for each other that will give them so, so much strength. Infallible. Impermeable. Impenetrable. _Indestructible_.

Not that I'd know anything about that sort of infallible, impermeable, impenetrable, indestructible love, of course. Not me. Only by watching them. I knew even at Hogwarts, you see. I knew probably before they did. I should have been in Ravenclaw with my brain power. I suppose it's my cruel streak that secured my place in Slytherin. My cruel, cruel streak.

It surfaces everywhere. To my friends, my enemies, my family. Not that I have much of any of them left. No one to love, and no one who loves me, not anymore. Why would they?

Love.

What an odd concept. It makes you think. Nature is all about preservation of the species, right? So why create an emotion that not only ties a man to one single woman, preventing him from impregnating other women, but that also creates such strong feelings of _selflessness_. Selflessness is not a healthy emotion. Being selfish, and ruthless, and manipulative will get you what you want in life.

Then love sneaks up on you. Like a sniper. From the top of a multi-story car park, one finger barely ghosting over the trigger. The slow release of breath, then a bullet cutting into your flesh.

Love is twice as deadly.

Oh, god.

I can't take it all of a sudden. Their pure, selfless love blazing furiously on my sofa. I run upstairs, fly into my room, rip open the windows and half-hurl myself out. Nearly all of myself, then I think better of it.

It's raining.

On the street below I think- just for a second, was it? No- can't be- can it? No. God.

My own mind turned against me, now. Playing tricks. Heavy droplets splash on my cheeks, ruining this morning's carefully applied makeup. What am I now? The once mighty and cruel and vicious and utterly-in-control Slytherin _queen_. What am I now? Jumping at shadows. When I opened the door, and saw Albus' tall, slender frame, messy dark hair, my heart had leapt. Why? I don't understand _why_.

Besides, he's gone, now. Maybe something happened at Hogwarts, but no more. Never again, he'd said. Never again. Ever. Ever. Ever.

Love can be beautiful for those who have the luck of the Devil. Or of God. Or Merlin. Those rare people who love with all their fragile hearts and are loved in return. Like Albus and Scorpius. I know of no one else. Oh wait, I do. Teddy, who was mine, and Victorie, who wasn't.

I once asked Scorpius what being in love felt like. He had stared at me, asked why _I_ of all people had never been in love. I didn't understand what he meant by that, but I had shrugged. He had said that he found it unpredictable, wonderful, and addictive. I had experienced those feelings. When fighting with him, the one who's always in the shadows, always at the corner of my eye, always outside my house, then gone when I blink.

Never again. Those words, he had said. Spoken clearly and with perfect execution. Perfect.

I'm further out of the window without realising it. My hand, stretches out. The raindrops falling over the white skin. Doesn't look like mine. Too pale. More like Scorpius', or Andrea's, or any of my pureblood school friends'. Not mine. Never mine.

One more look at the pavement. No shadows. No mind tricks. Nothing. Umbrellas and rain and trees. A branch stretches across the road towards me, leaves reaching, reaching, reaching and then-

Our Addiction

"-just get away from him! Al, can't you see he's_ using_ you!" James Potter was shouting, his cheekbones spotted with angry red patches, eyes flashing furiously.

Albus and Scorpius were backed into a corner. Albus looked defiant and scared, while Scorpius' face was completely blank, as usual. I utterly loathed Albus' brother on a good day, but my temper really flared when he persecuted Scorpius and his close friendship with Albus. Like now.

"James Potter, get the hell away from them." I spat, marching up the corridor. People backed away, looking between me and James nervously, well aware of what we got like when we fought. It was the age-old argument; Gryffindor against Slytherin. How ironic that he was the one with very nearly pure wizarding blood in his veins, whereas I, the Slytherin, had none.

"Oh look, boys, your knight in shining armour's here to save you!" Scorpius glared at me for interfering, like he always did. "So what will it be today, Ailene, darling? A simple war of words, or a brief fight and the promise of a proper duel tonight?"

"Entirely up to you, James, love." I smiled, tapping my wand against the palm of my hand.

He bowed mockingly, "Well then, dearest, let us begin."

I curtseyed, deep and low, "Yes, let's, sweetheart."

Professor Longbottom separated us five minutes later. I had a long gash running across my waist, blood seeping through my uniform, his face was blue and warty, and his arm was hanging at an odd angle. Fifty points were taken from both houses, and we were sent to the hospital wing. Neither of us went; we had too much pride for that.

I snuck out of the castle that night and out into the Forbidden Forest. James was there, waiting. He'd managed to fix his arm and removed the warts, most likely thanks to the expertise of his cousin, Rose. My side still ached, but it was healed.

We always fought. It was like a drug to us, in a way; it made the adrenalin pump through our veins. We'd do anything to get it going, small, snide comments was all it took. Doing anything to make our pulses race with excitement, to make our breathing come in ragged gasps, to make our minds cloud, until all we saw, smelt, heard, thought, _breathed_, was each other. Our addiction, all right.

But that time was different. That night I kissed him. Full on the mouth, fingers on hips and cheekbones, electric heat charging what air managed to get between us. That night, and the next, and the next, and the next for three whole months and two more nights. Then the words had come.

"Never again." Not a sorry, or an explanation or even a glance. He turned on his heel and left. We didn't fight again.

Tumbling After

I could lean and fall and tumble and crack. Blood staining the grey day crimson. Spilling over the pavement and down the drains. Rats will feast in the sewers. Would there be a lot of blood, I wonder? Maybe if I landed on my head. Right on the top. Like the nursery rhyme.

"Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water, Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after."

I wonder why Jill did that. Fell after him. Decided life wasn't worth living without Jack? Another flaw in the 'love' scheme.

"Jack fell down and broke his crown and Jill came tumbling after."

Would anyone come after me? Would anyone _care_ enough to tumble? Scorpius is my friend. My closest friend, which isn't saying much. But he has _his_ Jack. Or Jill. They have each other at any rate. Like Teddy and Victorie. There was a time when Teddy would have tumbled, for me. But my _cruel streak_ drove him away.

"And Jill came tumbling after."

Or am I Jill? Tumbling after the want of a flawed emotion that I can never have. Maybe I am.

"Broke his crown. Tumbling after."

Selfish. Selfless.

Me. Him.

Never again, Ailene, this will never happen again. Ever.

No, it won't. Not anymore. You won't be there to catch me. Not now. Not then. Not _ever_. See? I can play word games too. But I can't play with people's hearts as well as you can. Not quite. Though I did a good job on Teddy, didn't I? Your best friend.

But no matter, right? You're with your redheaded girlfriend having dinner with your family. Laughing, smiling. Being happy. I want to wish you happiness, but you'd know I don't mean it.

Why would I? I'm selfish.


	4. That Sort of Tightness in His Chest

**Chapter Title:** That Sort of _Tightness_ In His Chest  
**Rating:** T  
**Characters:** Albus Potter, Scorpius Malfoy, OC, James Potter, Teddy Lupin, Victorie Weasley, Harry + Ginny Potter  
**Pairings:** Albus/Scorpius, James(II)/OC, Teddy/Victorie  
**Chapter Summary:** Oh, but Camilla was perfect, as she would be. Though Ailene had been perfect too, just not for him.

**That Sort of **_**Tightness**_** In His Chest**

**1a) **

Sometimes I hate my brother, really I do. Like right now I want nothing more than to wipe that smug little smirk of his off his face. But then the smirk falls and deepest worry replaces it and terror's icy veins web across my heart. He blames me, I know. _I_ blame me. Why shouldn't I? It's _my_ fault.

She fell (jumped?), bled (too much?), and didn't cry out. A passerby had found her. Not them. Not them, so fucking close and they could have stopped her, could have saved her, but they did _nothing_. So maybe I blame them too. Just a little.

Malfoy has my brother's hand in a death grip – white knuckled – and his pointy face is paler than usual. My brother is squeezing Malfoy's fingers just as tightly, though. My parents are here, even though they never knew her, and if they did, they wouldn't have liked her. The girl's here too. Clinging onto my arm, rubbing my back, murmuring into my ear about how kind of me to be here for my brother, how caring and how sweet and how much that turns her on, and do I want to go find the nearest bathroom with her? Then more; dirty, filthy things. I can feel her hot breath on my ear, picture her pink, bow-shaped lips forming the words.

I'd always liked brunettes, petite, leggy and slim with red mouths and curling hair. But I knew that I'd marry a redhead; it was inevitable. I didn't look for an auburn girlfriend, knowing she'd find me, and she did, and she was petite and leggy and slim, but her mouth was pink, and her hair straight.

A mediwitch comes out, stutters at my dad, smiles shyly at me before flinching as I look at her blankly. She says that my enemy is sleeping, and there's no way of knowing when she'll wake up. My fists clench, ignoring the small cry of pain from the redheaded girl as I crush her fingers that I'd forgotten about, laced through mine. I let go.

I tell her to go home. Now. That I'd owl her later. She pouts with pink plump lips and kisses me wetly.

With her still watching I wipe my mouth roughly.

She leaves.

**1b)**

_She_ was tall, nearly my height. I was used to girls much shorter than me, though maybe I just picked them that way. I didn't pick her. I like to think we picked each other, but, knowing her, I find it most likely she picked me, whether she was aware she did or not.

"I don't think I've ever met someone I utterly _loath_ quite as much as _you_!"

She wasn't ugly, just not my type. She was Teddy's though, most definitely. He'd always had a thing for blondes, and she wasn't just blonde, she was _golden_. With huge cerulean eyes and thick curled lashes and white-and-pink skin. She wasn't skinny either. She didn't fold into boys the way my girlfriends did, bending at the knees and elbows, sharp bones folding to fit. Boys moulded to accommodate _her_, and why wouldn't they? Her mouth was red.

"If it was possible to use the _cruciatus_ on you without being sent to prison, I would. In a heartbeart."

She most definitely wasn't my type. She was the one who kissed _me_. The one who closed the small small distance between us, pressing her red mouth to mine, deigning to twist my hair between her fingers, then letting me bend myself around her. It wasn't gentle, or sweet, or caring, or (heaven-forbid!) loving. We didn't even like each other. I couldn't stand her and she couldn't stand me. She was a prejudice Slytherin bitch and I was an arrogant Gryffindor prick. We fought harder and more fiercely then – there, in the forest between a tree and a rock – than we ever had before.

"If you so much as _touch_ Scorpius again, I'll _kill_ you!"

We kept up the public arguments, for routine's sake, if nothing else. I never knew why she liked Malfoy. I just wanted his slimy hands away from my brother, couldn't she understand that? She was their friend, both of them. There was point where I thought she was in love with Malfoy. I still did long after whatever-the-fuck-we'd-had ended, right until my brother declared that it was _him_ who loved Malfoy, always had, always will, and Malfoy loved him. I thought she was sleeping with another Slytherin, the Nott kid. The way they flirted playfully, the way he touched her, the way she would turn and look at him, half-annoyed, half-laughing.

"Why should you _care_ who I date, _Potter_?"

I saw potential threats everywhere; the boy behind the counter in Honeydukes where I went with my girlfriend, her with another friend, who'd smiled brightly at her, and got my glare straight after; that Ravenclaw that'd helped her with her potions, he'd stuttered and blushed around her, and she'd found that too cute for words. I'd put him in the Hospital Wing for a week. She'd tried to be angry with me, really she had, but the things sprouting from him were just _too funny_ for a Slytherin to resist.

"Merlin, James, I never knew you were that imaginative!"

She'd laughed, and I'd smiled at the sound, then I'd realised and the smile fell. She wasn't my destiny. A kind, loyal redhead was, one who'd love me forever, and produce a healthy collection of dark-haired children with hazel eyes. Most definitely not a cruel, rude Slytherin who went out of her way to piss me off and would almost certainly never want to openly date, let alone marry me and bear my kids. No. It was a brief clash of attraction, passionate, but without a future. She knew that, I knew that, but I was in danger of falling in love with her, I could tell. It needed to end.

"Never again, Ailene, this will never happen again. Ever."

I hated myself for that, and she hated me. She got me back though. Got me good. Right where it hurts. She pouted and giggled and fluttered at Teddy, my best mate. And he fell hard for her, like anyone would, really. Then she dumped him publicly, humiliating him. Slytherin to the bone, that one – she couldn't hurt me so she hurt someone close. Her eyes read, 'You could have stopped this', from across the street.

**2a)**

My godbrother runs in, hair a dishevelled mahogany. Victorie hurries in behind him, looking as exquisitely lovely as ever, even with her shimmering mane a mess, and her face without make-up.

He says my name and I ignore him.

The mediwitch comes out, smiling, and tells us that the patient's awake. I'm on my feet, rushing for the door when I stop abruptly as I see everyone else doing the same.

"No." Everyone stares at me, "You can't see her. Not you or you or you." I point at Victorie, my parents. "Oh, and you." Then Teddy.

"James..." My mother reaches for me.

"What the _hell_, James?"

"She doesn't like any of you. _Hates_ one of you." I look at Victorie. She averts her eyes.

**2b)**

I found her crying, once. I'd never seen her cry before, and it was disconcerting, not to mention that it made my heart wrench painfully. It made me sprint to her side, collapse next to her and gather her into my arms. She didn't resist, to my astonishment, muscles clenching automatically as I awaited the punch, slap or knee to the groin that I'd been expecting. Then I smelled the alcohol, and I realised why.

"Oh, Ailene," I murmured, sliding my hand into her hair and holding her to me tightly. Her hair was lank, and she smelled of sweat and booze and grass. Her fingers moved slowly up my chest, as if waiting for me to push her away, then fisted tightly in my shirt, and began to cry again, the sobs racking her body. "What happened?"

What could have _possibly_ happened to turn _her_, of all people, into a quivering mess?

"Teddy." Her voice was remarkably calm and steady, but the ragged breath she gasped in a moment later eradicated any thoughts of her getting better. "He's got her now."

"I thought you didn't like him... I though you just did to get back at me?"

"I did, and I didn't like him, then I saw _him_ with _her_ and, I don't know, Jamie!" She jumped up, spinning away, laughing, "Why do I care, for him, for you, for _people like you and him_?" She stopped, a hind fisted in her hair, staring at me, "Why, Jamie?" Her voice was so soft and plaintive.

It had me flying to her, and trying to gather her up again, protect her from whatever demons were evidently tormenting her. But she pushed me away and ran towards the castle. I didn't go after her.

**3a)**

"How the hell would _you_ know who she likes!" Teddy storms, eyes and cheeks turned a mottled red colour.

"Because he loves her, you idiot." Everyone stares at Malfoy. "Come on, Al." He leads his boyfriend into the room, pausing on the doorway and saying, "You coming, James?"

I don't look at my family's reactions, just lurch forward.

She looks so pale and vulnerable, with her flashing eyes closed, her hair lying dead on the pillow. It's not how she should be, it's not _natural_ for her to be like this. _Not her_.

"James," Albus puts a hand on my arm as Scorpius moves to her side, slipping his fingers through hers gently and pushing a lock of hair off her forehead. Her eyes slip open and Albus leaves me, so he can go and clutch her other hand tightly between both of his.

"Ailene, don't _ever_ do that to us again, do you hear me?" Scorpius mutters, bending over her.

She blinks at him, "If you knew me at all, then you wouldn't say that. You know I'll do it again. And again. And again. Until it works."

Albus gasps in horror.

"No. You won't." I say, stepping forward. Her eyes lock on my figure and they widen.

"You can't stop me."

"I can, and I will. You're not leaving, not again."

"As I recall, it was _you_ who left _me_." She hisses, sitting up slowly.

My head drops. Then I know she wants to reach for me, but her pride stops her from doing so.

"Wait, what? Did you two...._before_!" Albus gasps.

Scorpius rolls his eyes. "You are far too oblivious to be safe, Al."

Eyes flash with a sudden spurt of laughter, and they connect with mine. A spark, and suddenly I find that I can't bear to be this far away from her anymore, so I'm at her side the next minute, clutching at her hand with both of mine, and the tears which had been so absent before _just won't stop_. Her fingers slide through my hair, and she bends over my head, "Oh, Jamie," She whispers, her own voice abruptly thick with emotion.

I hear the door click, look up to see Scorpius pulling Albus out. I discover I have a new-found respect for the Malfoy kid.

At her request, I pick her up (with some difficulty, which makes her hit me) and deposit her more the right, so I can sit on the bed next to her. After a bit, my arm settles down around her, and she – with much coaxing – lays her head on my shoulder. Then Teddy bursts in. It looks like he'd just been arguing with Scorpius, who I can see past my god-brother, looking frustrated.

Teddy just stares, as if he physically can't comprehend me and _her_, of all people, being in...well in whatever we are. Victorie's next, and she latches onto Teddy's arm as if she's afraid he might have a jealous fit. I would be, if I were her, given the way he's looking at Ailene.

But she's mine now. 'Sucks to be you!' my expression clearly reads as I tighten my grip around her, and slip my free hand though hers easily, as if we'd been doing it all out lives.

Mum looks horrified because she's hated always hated Ailene ever since I was suspended in my first year because of her. Dad still looks faintly dazed, as if he hasn't quite taken it all in yet. I feel Ailene shake beside me, and I don't have to look at her to know that she's trying her very hardest not to burst out laughing.

**3b)**

"That was...Scorpius," Dad said, looking vaguely stunned that the Malfoy kid had the audacity to owl our house. "He says that one of Albus' best friends from school has had an accident," My heart felt suddenly very tight, and I went pale. My girlfriend, sitting next to me at the dinner table, put her hand on mine, asking me if I was ok. I nodded my head briefly.

"Which one?" Mum asked. I was glad she had spoken up; I couldn't trust my own voice.

"The girl you didn't like, the muggleborn, Eileen something?"

"Ailene Merryweather." I said, louder than was necessary, because everyone stares at me.

"She was your arch-nemesis or something, wasn't she?" The redhead, Camilla, asked, laughing prettily.

"We're going to the hospital." I said, standing. Again, everyone stared.

"Er, what, James dear? I thought you didn't like this girl." Mum queries, adding in an undertone, "_I_ certainly don't."

"I don't, didn't, but...." I scrambled for a believable excuse. "But Teddy will want to go, and Albus needs our family's support right now."

At the word 'family', Mum seemed to draw herself up, and, looking more like Grandmum than ever, ordered me to owl Teddy, Dad to help Camilla apparate to St Mungo's, and me and her would follow shortly.

My chest still felt like there was some weight crushing it, which only worsened as we waited for her to wake up. I just wanted to see her, to know that she was alright. Albus had already soaked his cheeks, sleeves, and the Malfoy's shirt with tears, which was something James had expected. But Malfoy's cheeks were wet too. He dried them roughly when he saw James, but James had seen.

He nodded to his brother, who teared up again, and at Malfoy. Then there was nothing to do but wait.


End file.
